The Key is a Question of Control
by procrastin8or951
Summary: Response to "Fight Night," Nick looks back on Night of the Piflings. Oneshot. Review, please!


"When the pifflings leave the nest for the first time, they flock to an Icelandic city, attracted to the lights of the civilization," the narrator stated.

Ironic that this particular documentary should come on tonight, Nick thought. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who thought Fight Night was similar to Night of the Pifflings.

Also ironic that after denying that he watched too much TV, Nick lay on his couch doing just that.

_"How come when you talk about bugs everyone says you're a genius but when I talk about birds, everyone says I watch too much television?"_

Nobody actually said that Grissom was a genius when he talked about bugs. It was implied. No one bothered implying that Nick watched too much television. They came right out and said it.

No one would say such a thing to Grissom. It just wasn't something that was all right to do. Not just because he was the boss, either. No, there was something else about him, something that made him unapproachable.

Grissom was the genius entomologist, the guy who figured out every puzzle, knew the answer to any question you might ask, and would give it to you in the form of a Shakespeare quote.

If Grissom had any fault, it was his lack of empathy. Nick knew Catherine had called him on that before. But even that, that one foible that made him both a human and a robot, Grissom turned into a strength. No room for emotions when dealing with cases.

On the other hand, Nick seemed to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. People had no trouble telling him if they thought he was doing something wrong, no qualms about assuming he learned everything from television. And of course, he empathized with people, something a CSI should never do.

Nick scowled and punched the power button. With the absence of the glowing TV, the room was bathed in darkness.

People assumed too much. He ought to point that out to Grissom the next time he made a comment about Animal Planet. What was that he's always saying about not making assumptions about a crime?

But of course, he couldn't do that. No one said anything like that to Grissom.

Grissom was the boss, the night shift leader. And everyone knew he was much better at his job than the other shift leaders. That very well made him the best CSI in the lab. The second best lab in the country.

Nick turned on the light and pulled a book from his shelf, flopping into a chair and opening it. Really, he read much more than he watched TV. Just not on the days when his eyes were too tired from squinting at miniscule evidence.

How did Grissom become the best? Certainly not by going over two years without a solo case, after his promotion to CSI three. Not by solving smash and grabs.

Practice makes perfect. That stupid phrase Nick's mother had quoted to him constantly when he was tired of practicing the piano. But he supposed it was true. He no longer really remembered much about playing the piano. It wasn't relevant, though.

He needed practice at working scenes if he would ever improve. He was good already, he was sure of it. But Grissom didn't think he was good enough. How was he supposed to get any better on a smash and grab?

Nick glared at the page in the book, the words blurring because he had been wearing his contacts for about eighteen hours. Right now, the book was more of a showpiece anyway. He wasn't reading it. He was pretending to, instead of watching TV. It was the principle of the thing.

_Who are you trying to impress?_ Nick asked himself. He was alone in his house. No one to see what he was doing.

He sighed and tossed his book onto the coffee table. He didn't need to impress anyone.

_"Anyone who's great at anything, Nick, does it for their own approval, not someone else's."_

He shouldn't try to impress Grissom. It was useless. But now, after Grissom said that, he got the feeling that by not trying to impress Grissom, he still was trying to impress him. Like he was saying "Look at me! I'm not trying to impress you, just like you wanted!"

He wished he could just forget Grissom had ever said that. He thought about it too much.

_So just forget it_, he told himself. _It was a long time ago_.

But wasn't that the point? _"Being efficient is not a bad thing, Nick."_

It had been over two years, and he still wasn't working D.B.'s solo. Definitely not efficient.

_Just forget it!_ After all, hadn't Grissom said he would get the first body, the next Fight Night?

_There's no point in thinking about it anymore._ He turned the TV back on. _Not looking for approval. _

"The color red is very attractive to hummingbirds," the narrator informed him.

Why was it that he had seen all of these? Maybe he really _did_ watch too much television.


End file.
